


Polygon of Despair

by Ingi



Category: Best Friends Forever (Webcomic)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Confusion, Denial of Feelings, Hopeful Ending, Love Polygon, M/M, POV Minor Character, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:22:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ingi/pseuds/Ingi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or <strong>How broken hearts always seek their kin</strong>.</p><p><i>"I don’t know what brings broken people together.</i><br/><i>Maybe damage seeks out damage</i><br/><i>the way stains on a mattress halo into one another,</i><br/><i>the way stains on a mattress bleed into each other.”</i><br/>― Warsan Shire</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polygon of Despair

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this came to me after remembering a conversation Kiarawolf and I had not so long ago, about Teddy being demisexual and having a crush on John when he was little. Then, the plot bunnies came and made it even more angsty. I'm so sorry.
> 
> Also, my new headcanon is that Silent Guy is Japanese.
> 
> And because it was getting confusing in the narrative, I had to give him a name; trust me, I didn't want to do so, because the appeal of his mystery name was too great. Buuut I had to, so I've called him Reizo, a Japanese name that supposedly means cool, calm, and well-groomed.
> 
>  _If it was so much trouble, why did you make Silent Guy narrate the fic?_ , you could ask. And I'd tell you: _because I wouldn't stop hearing his voice until I let him tell the story on his own way_.

Reizo didn't speak much.

He was aware that character trait of his was always mentioned mockingly, treated like a joke among his friends. Ah, but it was partially their fault, wasn't it? That Reizo didn't like speaking when he had nothing relevant to bring to the conversation didn't mean that he _couldn't_ speak, but his peers didn't want to listen to what he had to say anyway.

Most of the times, he faded in the background. When a new student joined their little group, he was just _that guy_ , never Reizo. "These are Kamri, Louis, Bianca, John, Vincent, Andre, Charli... and there you have _that guy_ "; that was how most introductions went. His nickname was said with fondness, that much was true, but it wasn't a great comfort.

But since Reizo was rarely the center of attention, he could do something that almost none of his friends could: _observe_. He could notice the subtle  body language and read into it, discovering motives and dynamics and feelings. He could listen to someone's speech pattern and voice changing as they talked with a person or another. He could see clues, make relations, understand people.

Reizo _knew_.

He'd been the only one to notice what was happening in the group. At first he'd thought that Kamri, at least, would find out sooner or later, because it was just the kind of things she picked up in a blink, but then he realized that he'd be the only one to carry that burden this time. He could almost _see it_ in a literal way, invisible threads linking his friends together and just barely avoiding tangling in a big mess, but it was too complex for anyone else to see.

Some people understood part of it, small pieces of a whole, but Reizo _knew_.

 

* * *

 

When he wanted to follow the thread, Reizo always started with **John**.

John was the beginning, in a way, and if Reizo ever felt the compulsion to blame someone, as unlikely as that was, he was sure he'd put all the blame on him. For starters, he'd broken Teddy's heart.

Those two thought it was a big secret, something only them and Vincent and some friends knew, but Reizo was too clever for his own good, and besides, he'd been there when it had happened, even if nobody remembered. John had put so much attention in Teddy, he'd been so absorbed by him, that when he withdrew his affections, he had to look for someone else to invest in; it wasn't in his nature to be neither a loner nor a lider, no matter what he wanted to believe.

So John searched, and he found Louis.

Louis, who was too bright to go unnoticed. Louis, who sought attention the same way John sought to give it away. Louis, the son of the woman John's father had married.

If Reizo hadn't believed in fate before, that would have probably convinced him.

He'd known them for a long time, so he'd been able to watch as their relationship developed. John wasn't a big fan of physical contact, he hadn't been taught to be, but he always let Louis lean on him and curl around him like a vine, his complains in form of half-hearted whines when once he'd have thrown a punch. John didn't like anything that threatened his father's concept of masculinity, but he accepted Louis' homosexuality without much fuss and only mild alarm. John had once beaten up a guy for saying he found him attractive, but he didn't seem to mind Louis' flirty nature much, at least not when it was directed at him.

It was fascinating, what love could do.

Because John _loved_ Louis, even if Reizo doubted he had admitted it to himself yet. But Louis didn't love him back.

 

* * *

 

He was the one who came next, from Reizo's point of view; **Louis**.

Reizo didn't blame him about anything, though. In fact, he probably pitied him more than anyone else involved in that mess, because Louis had done everything he could think of not to get tangled in such a thing, and yet... it hadn't worked. And what he'd been avoiding all his life had become even more complicated than he'd have ever thought it could be.

Louis favourite phrase was " _I don't do love_ ", but if he'd asked Reizo, if anyone ever bothered to ask Reizo, he'd have warned him that it wasn't a choice, that in fact it hurt a good deal more to fall in love when you _didn't do love_ , because it took you by surprise, it dragged you by the ankles to the bottom of the muddy lake feelings were and it let you drown in revenge of having the audacity of denying it.

Oh, the poor guy.

He was as flamboyant as ever, but for probably first time in his life, he didn't care about attracting everybody's attention; he only wanted _Vincent's_. It was pretty obvious, if you knew where to look. Louis spent far too much time focusing his gaze in Vincent for such a  volatile person, spent far too much time scrutinizing his expressions and taking note of his reactions, spent far too much time _bothering_ to know him, when once upon a time he wouldn't have given a rat ass. He still didn't, not if the person to know wasn't either Vincent or himself.

They had a sexual agreement of some sort, Reizo was sure. He'd recognize the signs anywhere... and he'd also caught them making out a few times, to be honest. They weren't as discreet as they thought they were.

But it wasn't just sex. Not for Louis, not this time, and _hell_ , didn't the guy have the worst luck ever? Louis looked at Vincent as if the Sun shone out of his ass and he'd hung the Moon in the sky for them to have nice dark places to make out in, and for such a self-centered person, that was the biggest proof of love that one could hope for.

And yet he would only ever own Vincent's body, never his heart.

 

* * *

 

In Reizo's mind, that made the thread immediately take him to **Vincent**.

He'd always liked Vincent, maybe because he saw himself in him. The guy was quiet, and only part of it was due to him being shy; half of the time, he was deep in thought, analyzing everything, picking up some things other people didn't. Unfortunately, he sold himself short and so was hopelessly oblivious when a matter was related to him, since he refused to accept anything that would make him feel good about himself; he was just like that, shaped by experiences that Reizo could understand all too well.

Vincent, struggling with so many problems at once. His sexuality was secondary, in his scheme of things, but he didn't realize that it affected him more than it was supposed to all the same. He got so easily attached to anyone that wouldn't look down at him, but not up either, because he didn't know how to deal with being important, with _mattering_.

But he was such a good guy, standing up for all the right causes. Life eventually rewarded him, Reizo guessed, sending him Teddy, who saw Vincent just as he was, no more and no less, and never asked anything from him in return. Instead, he gave, gave, gave, until Vincent's eyes couldn't look away from him, until he became his whole world and everything else ceased to matter.

Vincent pushed his limits for Teddy, doing what he'd never do for anyone else; he constantly tried to prove himself for his benefit and _did it_ , even if he believed that it was due to Teddy's influence. Reizo knew, though, that it could only be attributed to his own stubbornness, because he was the kind of person that could move mountains if he wanted, if he put himself to the task, and his love was such a strong motivation and burned _so bright_.

Even so, he still thought he wasn't good enough for Teddy. _You are_ , Reizo wanted to scream, sometimes, _you're so good that he's scared of you wanting him, because it pains him to see how you waste all that love, how you give it away to him, when he could never take it, when you should offer it to someone who could appreciate it instead_.

Vincent was more than good enough, but Teddy could never take him.

 

* * *

 

And so, the last two threads were both connected to **Teddy**.

It made Reizo's chest hurt, to think about it: what could have been and never would. There was a person who loved him fiercely and another who used to, and Teddy couldn't let go of the second one.

John had poured himself into Teddy, wrapped him in the warm cocoon of his affection in the way he always did when he found someone he loved, and Teddy had relished it. In his gratefulness, he'd broken parts of himself to allow John to look in, he'd let him touch him bare with rough fingers and smooth his sharp edges, he'd watched in wonder as John brought blasts of light out of his skin with his mere presence, which made him start believing that he had the potencial to be something precious.

He'd trusted him completely, without conditions.

He shouldn't have.

Before Teddy figured out what was happening, John had ripped him open with his own hands, and every beautiful thing that he could've been had spilled away, leaving him empty and cold. And by the time Vincent came, smiles as fond as John's had been but touch much gentler, Teddy couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable again.

Reizo didn't blame him, either, but he couldn't help thinking that it was an awful waste. All those longing glances, directed at someone who didn't deserve them. All that tenderness, broken into pieces. All that fragility, the damaged core, so thoroughly protected from everyone but John; John, who had harmed it in the first place, who had judged it unworthy of him and spat on it.

He understood, oh, how he _did_ , and still... Everything Teddy had to offer, John didn't want it anymore.

 

* * *

 

Reizo was used to seeing unrequited love, but not like that, never like that.

He was fond of them all, even John, for all his mistakes, and so every lost smile was a small tragedy. The threads were too tangled, wounds wide open and oozing pain, and he was getting weary of the same ditty of _John loves Louis, Louis loves Vincent, Vincent loves Teddy, Teddy loves John_ , repeating over and over again with no end in sight.

It wouldn't be like that, not if Reizo could do anything about it. Intervening directly wasn't his way of doing things, mostly because he never felt like he had the power to, but he focused so intently in what he wanted that he forgot he wasn't supposed to be able to have it. He brought out the guilt in John, recruited Kamri to help Louis in the hard task that was accepting his emotions, schemed until Vincent saw what was right in front of him, and tried to give Teddy some closure with random acts of kindness that showed him that not everybody wanted to break him.

The timid glimpses of results that he started seeing were so beautiful, like a brave flower blooming after a really long winter, that he could have cried.

Instead, he settled on feeling proud of himself when John hesitantly greeted Teddy every time he walked into a room, or when Louis decided to give a leap of faith and confessed to his step-brother that he was in love with Vincent, or when Vincent wrapped an arm around Louis' shoulders in public, or when Teddy took Vincent's hands in his and mumbled something that made his eyes light up like fireworks.

And maybe they were just the same threads getting even more tangled, but if Reizo had to choose...

He'd always choose _hope_.

**Author's Note:**

> It hurt to write this fic, so I'm feeling mean enough to hope it hurts to read it too. <3
> 
> Please pour all your "oh, my god, why did you do this" in the comments, and fight back by writing fluffy fics for the fandom, because honestly, Mickey already gives us enough angst.


End file.
